The excommunication of Madonna
How many more mind-numbing, techno-laden albums must we endure from Madonna before we come to this painful realization: The Material Girl we knew and loved from the '80s is long dead and buried. She's no longer one of us.
Her latest disc -- "Hard Candy" -- bears more resemblance to a Britney Spears collection of b-sides than anything else. Perfect for the booty-bumping, Red Bull-saturated twenty-something crowd -- but total heresy for the older set of us who prefer to remember the subtle but surreal pleasures of tunes like "Live to Tell" and "Crazy for You."
Times pop music critic Sean Daly reviewed "Hard Candy" on his blog yesterday, and it's not hard for 80s fans to read between the lines: "Justin Timberlake, Kanye West, Timbaland and Pharrell bring their synthy booty beats and marching-band samples, Madonna purrs out every dumb 'give it to me' cliche, and we all dance naked," he writes.
Meanwhile, I writhe in agony. Timbaland again? Isn't it enough he destroyed the latest Duran Duran album? How much longer must we be subjected to his Vanilla Icing of the pop music scene?
The only song I could come close to enjoying was "Incredible," a six-minute-long lamentation about ... hell, I have no idea. The message goes back and forth, but one verse stood out:
"You don't know what you got 'til it's gone.
And everything in life just goes wrong.
Feels like nobody's listening
And something is missing."
I'll tell you what's missing, Madonna ... It's you.